Calamity
by merrygolds
Summary: Rosalie Kohl is a young teacher who just so happens to live in a town full of supernatural-not that she would know about any of that. Even when her best friends, Laura and Kate, congregated in circles of werewolves and hunters, dear old Rosalie was kept in the dark. But how long can she remain that way? With Derek back in town, not for long. [Derek/OC]
1. one

Sheriff Stilinski looked over the table with a grim expression on his aging face, hardly making eye contact while he flipped through a tan folder full of glossy pictures. While he remains silent, I'm scrambling inside my brain for some clue as to why I was here. I couldn't remember getting a ticket and I'd just spoken with my parents an hour before I'd been escorted into this dim room. My heart begins to thud a bit faster at the thought of one of them being gravely injured; it was the only thing I could think of that would lead to them bringing me into the Police Station so late at night.

Swallowing thickly, I lean in closer, tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. [i]Were my parents dead[/i]?

"Sheriff, are my parents-"

"Oh, no, no," he immediately counters. "No, they're fine, Rosalie."

My eyebrows furrow at that.

"Why am I here, then?" I ask.

Sheriff Stilinski glances apprehensively up at me. I can tell this whole conversation was something he'd rather avoid. The realization makes dread surge through my system till I'm even more nervous.

"You and Derek Hale… You two were close through high school, right?"

This only further confuses me. [i]Derek[/i]? He'd left town sometime after the fire ate away the majority of his life, abandoning everything in favor of a stony silence that left many people, including myself, guessing to where he was. I'd not had any contact with him since the day at the hospital when I'd come in with bad news about Kate and apologetic words dripping from my eyes. Now, though, he was a shadow I sometimes forgot that really had been a part of my life.

"Yea, I was," I answer.

The Sheriff nods. He clears his throat and withdraws one of the shiny pictures from the folder. Sliding it over to me, he avoids his eyes to the floor.

My mind doesn't try to warn me about gazing down at the photographs. To my knowledge, I was here on something minor, something pertaining to the Hale fire, maybe. That's what I thought, anyway. But what my eyes meet when I look over the images has absolutely nothing to do with the blaze that happened some odd years ago.

At first I'm not sure what I'm looking at, but then further elaboration by Sheriff Stilinski informs me that this was Laura Hale, or what was left of her.

This throws me. The person I'm looking down at was broken into two pieces, with blood scattered around the torn in half body and a pair of lifeless orbs watching something to the left of them. It doesn't look like Laura. My brain tells me it's not her but my chest starts to painfully clench and tears swell up in my eyes again.

"But… No… She… Her and Derek… They left… I…"

"I know this is hard," the Sheriff softly starts, interrupting my rambling.

"No, that can be Laura. Her… Derek and her left after the fire. She doesn't live here anymore."

When I glance up at the sandy haired man, he looks somber.

"We're not sure why she came back. Maybe for a visit or something," the Sheriff shrugs. "We found her last night in the woods."

"Are you sure? She hadn't even…"

"We're sure, Rosalie. We found her cell phone a few feet away from her body."

I'm clinging to the final shreds of calm I have left, squeezing my hands tightly together till there's a strong pain radiating through them. My brain is buzzing with thoughts and I try to remember when was the last time I'd had any real contact with Laura or Derek. The latter had been especially elusive after he left town, but Laura was better at letting me know about their well-being. She told me where they were and how she worried for Derek; he hadn't been adjusting to their new surroundings or the death of his family well, even after years. But that was a while ago and it'd been a year since I'd heard anything from her.

Swallowing thickly, I tell myself to not look back down at the photo. I know I won't be able to stomach seeing my friend like that again.

"I'd like to go home," I murmur.

This place is cold and I don't feel comfortable with beginning to mourn her in a room so pale and impersonal. I want to be home, by myself so I can scream and cry without eyes looking down on me with pity shining in them.

"I know. We'll get ya home soon, alright? But first I need to ask you some questions," the Sheriffs says, his tone low and sad.

Reluctantly, I drop back into the metal chair I'd been shown to upon arrival and stare over at the tired looking man with tear glazed eyes. He only looks at me for a few seconds before his eyebrows pinch together. Then he starts flipping through a little notebook quite quickly.

I wonder if he remembers all the times he had to wrangle us out of trouble when he'd been a deputy and we'd all been younger. I wonder if he remembers Laura Hale and feels just as sad as I do.

"Had Laura contacted you in the past few weeks?"

I shake my head. He flips to another page.

"So you hadn't seen her at all recently?"

"No," I manage out.

He nods. "What about before, maybe months ago… Had you and her talked any then?"

"It's been about a year since I heard from her. She was fine then," I murmur.

"And what about Derek Hale? Ever hear from him?" he asks.

Again, I shake my head.

Sheriff Stilinski goes through a few more pages but doesn't ask me anymore questions. A moment later and I'm being released with the weak warning to not leave town because I'd probably need to be contacted for more questions later on. I just nod and let another deputy show me the way out. He opens the door to the back of a cruiser before strolling around to the driver's side.

I sit in silence as I'm being driven home. My brain is whirling with images of the past as silent tears stream down my cheeks. There of Laura and me, falling against each other while we laugh about something Derek had just done. In another, I'm letting her braid my hair while she confesses about how she finally kissed that one boy she'd been eyeing for a while, then we're laying in the same bed and I'm crying about my Grandmother.

But Derek has his own moments, too, many of those being when he needed advice on Kate and thought I knew the girl better because she was my best friend. He looked so pretty, I remember, and the few times we'd crept too close still burns lowly in the pit of my stomach.

His face is an array of different smiles and his green eyes mimic all the emotions he always so clearly displayed. And Laura, she's a mother hen who doted too much and smothered Derek to the point that he griped about her.

I have to hide my face in my hands because I can't hold it together anymore.

Laura was dead and God knows what's happened to Derek.


	2. two

There was no funeral for Laura, or if there was, I hadn't been invited. My mother frowned at me when I recalled this one Sunday afternoon.

"There was no one here to bury her, baby," she'd said. "You weren't excluded. Derek wouldn't do that to you."

I know she was trying to make me feel better, but it only caused my feelings to worsen tenfold. Laura's body was God knows where—probably thrown into some empty grave that had been dug late at night. There were no nice remarks said about my friend and no one was there to mourn her as her casket was lowered into the earth. She was left alone, with no family and no friends.

And now everyone's whispering about Derek. Apparently he's back in town and the primary suspect in his sister's death. People have said they've seen him lingering around the old Hale house, like he's a ghost that's stuck there. I don't know if he is staying there or how those people have even spotted him, but I want to know if he's really back. I want to know if he can tell the police who really killed Laura and if he's planning on staying in Beacon Hills. I have a lot of questions that have been building and now he's the only one who can answer them.

It takes me a long time, though, to draw up enough courage to trek down to the house that was still charred and now crumbling in certain sections. I end up picking a Saturday when I don't have any papers to grade, creeping up to the burnt home like I was forbidden from even entering the Hale grounds. Truly I do feel like I shouldn't be here, but the ache to see if Derek is alright overbears all of that.

I don't see him at all but there is a black Camaro that I park by. I figure it to be his and draw in a deep breath through my nose, easing out of my own car before crossing my arms in front of my chest.

Slowly, I start to make my way up to the front porch. It's still standing but the paint has flecked off badly. The wicker furniture that always used to reside there is gone and there are no pretty flowers growing on the sides of the steps. Everything is barren and unkempt.

"What're you doing here?"

My heart lurches up into my throat just as I feel my stomach drop into the bottom of my feet. Gasping, I whirl around, eyes wide and mind blank.

"Don't you people know this is private property?"

"I…," I start, having to swallow because my throat is dry. "I'm looking for someone."

The man standing before me furrows his dark eyebrows menacingly.

"I don't care who you're looking for. You're trespassing and I could have you arrested," he says.

A headache throbs in the front of my brain and I sigh before running a hand through my hair. I don't want to deal with Sheriff Stilinski. Just days ago he'd told me to stay away from here, to leave Derek alone because he might've murdered Laura and there was no telling what he'd do to me. I don't want him to lecture me like I'm sixteen again.

"Fine," I mumble, starting to walk around the man. "I'm leaving."

Digging around in the pocket of my jeans for my keys, I begin to grow confused. Obviously all the people who'd quipped about seeing Derek here had been wrong. This man was a stranger, someone encroaching on the Hale's property.

"Wait."

I almost don't catch the quiet word, but pause and glance over my shoulder. The man is now glancing at me rather strangely. I frown and inch closer to my car.

"Rosie?"

Automatically, my eyes widen. I gulp and stare over at the man who now, as I take the time to really look at him, is Derek. He doesn't resemble anything that I remember, but I tell myself that he was a teenager when he left with his sister some years ago. I turn all the way around and nearly gape at him.

"Derek?" I whisper.

His dark, bushy eyebrows furrow but his pretty gaze rakes over my form a few times. A frown then sets up on his pink lips and he sneers a little. Taking a few steps back, he wears an expression much like when he'd first discovered me here.

"What do you want?" he spits.

His tone is laced with venom. The way he's standing, as if on guard for something, confuses me.

Though Derek and I hadn't had a relationship like the one Laura had formed between her and I, we'd still been relatively close. He asked me about girls and I made him teach me how to properly swing a bat. On nights when I slept over at the Hales' but couldn't sleep, Derek and I would sit on the foot of the stairs and share a tub of ice cream, laughing and talking.

But now, as I finish taking in the big brute of a man leering before me, I realize that that person is gone. Whoever I'm facing now resembles nothing like what I was used to.

I swallow thickly and rake a hand through my hair again. Derek hisses a breath out of his nose as though agitated by the movement.

"I came to see if you were alright," I murmur. "I heard about Laura."

"Yea? Didn't happen to be your handy work, did it?" he spits.

For a second I don't really hear what he said. But then, the longer I stare blankly at his face, the more the acid-like words sink into my brain.

He was accusing _me_ of murdering Laura?

I splutter for a bit, but then narrow my gaze into a glare.

"How dare you!" I exclaim. "Laura was my best friend, you asshole!"

"And Kate was my girlfriend! Didn't stop her, did it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Derek! I… Kate's doesn't even live here now!"

It's weak, the comeback is, but it's all I've got. I'm confused and can't put the pieces together. Was he accusing me of murdering his sister, or Kate? I can't tell.

Something that resembles a growl ripples out and he takes a few steps towards me, arms falling to his sides as his big hands curl into tight fists.

I stagger back a bit. He's wearing a look that makes my heart start to beat rapidly inside my chest and my skin prickle with goose bumps. Quickly, I start digging around in my pocket for my keys again, mercilessly trying to come up with a plan in case he really did attack me. My mind is too blank, though; I was unprepared for the reunion to go this way.

"Is this… Are you mad at me for some reason? Or do you… Do you think _I_ killed Laura?" I ask, my voice weak and strained.

Derek's lip curls back into another snarl.

"Did you kill Laura?" he hisses.

"Why would I do that? I loved her!"

The images of her mutilated corpse flashes into my mind and I blink fast a few times in order to clear them away. I don't want to see them anymore. Every time I picture her dull eyes or her matted hair, it chips a little piece of my sanity away.

For a moment, Derek breathes heavily while glaring over at me. His fingers curl and uncurl, and I honestly feel frightened. Never have I ever had this kind of feeling running through my system while I'd been in his company. I try to blame his new attitude on the fact that he'd just lost another member of his family, but the way he's looking at me, as if I was the one responsible for it all, destroys my hope.

I draw up all the courage I have left swimming somewhere inside me and step closer to him. Immediately, he lets out something that I now know is a growl. It's a warning and one I should head, but I don't. I inch closer little by little till I'm now just mere feet away from him. He's shaking and I think his green eyes flash blue for a second.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper. "Do you not remember who I am?"

His orbs are roaming all over my face. The expression he wears has softened a bit, like my demand for him to recall who he was talking to has phased him some. I take the opportunity to push on.

"I held your hand the night you're family died, remember? You fall asleep on my shoulder and in the morning, you wouldn't let me leave. Said something about being afraid for me."

"I know who you are," he whispers, ducking his head a little.

The tension that has always flamed between the two of us roars back to life and now my heart is beating rapidly for a new reason. For a second I think he's going to reach for my hand, but he just remains with his body almost leaning against mine. However, I see his hand curl away from where it had jerked up to my cheek.

"That's why I'm going to let you leave this one time. But if I ever catch you on my property again, I'll tear you throat out with my teeth."

Startled, my eyes widen dramatically. _What_?

He gives a rough shove to my shoulder that has me slipping back. I try to keep my footing and just barely manage to stop from crashing to the ground.

"Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind, Rosalie."

I stare over at him for a few seconds. I try to see if he's kidding, but Derek had never been this cruel to me. I know, back then, he'd never even think about letting anyone treat me as he'd just done, let alone regard me in such a way himself.

But he's not that Derek anymore. The man I'm staring at now is hard and cold, calloused by things I'll probably never know. And he hates me. I don't know why, but Derek hates me so much that he could murder me.

This is the thought I leave with.


	3. three

**_Authors Note:_******_I just want to thank all of you for the overwhelming support this story has gotten so far! I honestly didn't expect that. I'm so glad you all like it, though, and really, **really** appreciate the reviews, favorites and follows you give it. Your support means a lot. :') _

_Now, I want to here you theories on why Derek has suddenly become so nasty to Rosalie. Also, I'm really interested to see what you guys think of their relationship when they were younger. Do you think they liked each other? :-)_

* * *

My gaze stares past the messy letters on the crinkled papers I've been grading and suddenly all I can see is the whirling events of the past few days. There's Laura, lifeless and bleeding, with her eyes wide and her face speckled with dirt and leaves. Then I see Derek and he looks like he'd personally like to arrange my body like his sisters had been found. A shiver picks it way down my spine as his angry face continues to flash through and I try not to get caught up enough to start trembling.

Laura is gone—there's no way I can right the inexcusable thing that had been done to her. Derek, though… He was still here, but I feel just as helpless when it comes to him as I do his sister. I want to ask him what he'd been talking about days ago and attempt to not feel so lost, but I'm too afraid to go to him again. I'm too scared that he'll make good on his promise and I will be found, dead and alone, like Laura.

[i]He would never do that[/i].

The thought is barely a whisper, so weak that I almost lose it within a second, and that, I decide, is how fragile my chances of survival are if I were to go back to Hale House. All of my questions and that unquenched ache to let Derek lean on me like he'd done before will have to be quieted somehow. I can't go to him again; I know I won't return if I do.

"Ms. Kohl?"

I nearly jump out of my seat. There is no grace in the way I manage to catch myself but I don't crumple to the floor and none of the papers fly away. Tucking a few strands of hair behind my ears as I clear my throat and feel my cheeks heat up, I look over to the doorway. Stiles Stilinski is standing with slightly wide eyes and an apologetic grimace on his face.

"Yes, Stiles?"

I don't smile. Instead, I turn my attention to the papers that I've still not thoroughly graded and try to straighten them.

"I was just wondering if I could talk to you about my essay. The one you assigned us on Thursday?" he says.

"Sure," I murmur. "Walk with me down to the teachers' lounge."

He nods and falls in step with me after I collect my books and the papers. The door falls shut behind me.

As I resituate everything in my arms, the brown haired boy begins to prattle. He's worried he won't receive a good grade because he's been 'distracted' lately and wants to know if he can have an extended due date. I nearly roll my eyes at the way he's attempting to sweet talk me.

"I'm sure your paper will be fine, Mr. Stilinski," I interrupt.

Stiles grimaces again.

"Yea… But I can't take a 'fine'. I need a 'fantastic' or a 'brilliant'. My GPA needs a 'magnificent', Ms. Kohl."

"Why—"

"Stiles!"

We both turn at the sound of the younger boys' names being ground out. I have to do a double take because I can't believe what I'm seeing. Derek Hale is standing a few lockers down from where Stiles and I are walking, looking pale, with dark circles under his gaze as his body slumps a little. I take a few steps forward before catching myself and listen to the warning he'd clenched out back at his house. It flows through my mind till it's beating at the front of my brain.

Instinctively, I angle myself in front of the student who always talked too much during class, attempting to glare hotly at the black haired man now scowling fiercely at me. Something that sounds like a growl ripples out into the quiet hallway. Behind me, I feel Stiles jerkily moving his body. I don't turn around to see what he's doing. I'm too scared to take my gaze off of Derek; I don't know if he'd make good on his promise just because he'd merely laid eyes on me again.

"I need to talk you, Stiles," Derek hisses.

"No, you don't," I counter.

I try to make my voice strong but it wavers too much and I swallow in hope that it will within stand the torture of having to face my once-upon-a-time friend again. At the same time, I inch Stiles and I back a little. I can't remember how far we are from the teachers' lounge, but I think we can make a run for it if we have to.

"Shut up, Rosalie!" Derek spits with a sneer.

"This is a school, you lunatic! You can't just barge in after threatening me and demand to talk to one of my students!" I whisper-shout.

"Stop meddling and just let me talk to the kid!"

I try to ignore how much frailer his deep voice is now—I try not to pay any attention to his weakening state, but he starts to cough just as I begin to inform him of the campus rules and I almost lose the idea of my own safety.

It's obvious that Derek was sick. As he holds his middle and covers his mouth with a big hand, I figure this to be more than the flu or some mundane sickness.

"Ms. Kohl, maybe I should—"

Stiles doesn't finish his sentence because Derek's body starts swaying and then suddenly he collapses onto the linoleum floor in a heap of broad shoulders and long legs. I see as his head smack against the hard ground, my eyes widening as it bounces.

Letting out a curse, the brown headed boy who'd been residing behind me pushes past and skids to where to Derek is now lying. The younger boy's shaking hands fly over Derek's muscled body, almost hovering, but it's clear he doesn't know what to look for. When I scramble over, Stiles moves aside and waits till I've declared that Derek is still alive before sprinting off.

I hope he hadn't finally gone to class; I prayed that the twitchy boy was getting some help.

"Derek?" I whisper.

I've moved his upper body so his head is now resting in my lap and have begun to push some of his black hair off his sweaty forehead. My heart has started beating much too fast, a result ofbeing so close to the person I've spent days learning to fear. I wonder what he would do should he wake up and find that we are the only two people in this hallway. The thought makes me even more frantic and I flick my gaze around in search for Stiles.

It takes a few more minutes before the echoing sound of footfalls reaches me and I sigh a little. But what rounds the corner causes my eyes to widen once more and anger to boil up in my system.

"You went and got McCall?" I hiss.

Stiles falters a little. "Well… yea! He… Scott knows Derek, you see, and Derek told him about this real rare medical condition that only he has and then Scott was like, "Wow, dude! I just found out I got that condition too!" and—"

"Does this have anything to do with why Derek passed out?" I ground out.

"Erm… Kind of. Scott knows how to make Derek better. We can take him somewhere that he can get help," he says.

When I glance over at Scott, the lacrosse player is looking skeptically at his friend, but smiles brightly at me when he catches me looking.

For a second, I try to work out what to do. Derek needs a hospital, but he was still wanted for his sister's murder and I didn't know if he was sidestepping Sheriff Stilinski because he knew he'd be arrested or if he was looking for the one who truly had been the reason for Laura ending up in two pieces. Whatever Derek's reasoning (and despite his hostility towards me), I decide that taking him to the hospital now would be unhelpful to everybody.

"You two go back to class, alright?"

When I start trying to get Derek up, Scott and Stiles grip his elbows and upper arms in an attempt to help. I sigh exasperatedly.

"I said to go back to class!"

"We can really help him, Ms. Kohl," says Scott. "He's not like you think. You can't take him to the hospital and have my mom fix him. He's too different."

I narrow my eyes at the teenager.

"We've been friends for—"

"Please, Ms. Kohl. Let Scott help him," interrupts Stiles.

My moth opens and closes twice as I stare at the two high school students. I don't trust them to accurately help Derek and the fact that they're trying to lead on about some special kind of knowledge about him makes me even angrier. But the school day is about to end; I'm running out of time and options.

Sighing, I nod. "Fine! You help me get him into my car and then I'll follow one of you, okay?"

Scott and Stiles nod, then go about getting underneath each one of Derek's arms in order to haul him out. I quickly bend down to gather the things I'd dropped and sprint back down to my room for my bag before they even have him past a set of lockers.

When I near them again, I hear Derek moaning and then a hiss of a word I think has something to do with a wolf, but forgo trying to figure out what had just been swapped between the two boys and my childhood friend in favor of getting us all out of here before the last bell rings.

As we load Derek into my back seat, I ignore the pounding thought that what I was doing right now was illegal. I also ignore that not only was I endangering two teenagers, but myself as well.

* * *

_**Authors Note: **Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a comment telling me your theory about why Derek despises Rosalie now and if you think the two liked each other when they were younger. Have a good day/night! xoxo_


	4. four

The turn into the animal clinic parking lot threw me for one and as the two teenage boys clamber out of the blue jeep crookedly parked two spaces over, I wonder what I've gotten myself into. I feel foolish, like I've failed, and I know I can't afford to do that right now; I've got my used-to-be friend lying in my back seat and his life was dangling from my fingertips.

"An animal clinic? Really?" I hiss after sweeping out of the car.

Stiles cringes away a little, causing me to sigh. I try to collect some patience but only manage to make myself more nervous.

"Is this going to work?" I quietly murmur. "Is someone or something in there going to be able to help Derek? Because if not—"

"We can save him," Scott interrupts.

His brown eyes are pleading and he pats the pocket of his jeans as a little smile washes over his expression. I narrow my eyes, skeptical once again. For a second I think to question the two boys a little longer but the sound of the back passenger door opening and a grunt as Derek falls out ends the opportunity.

None of us race forward to help him up; we all just glance over, my eyes wide and fear tangling with adrenaline and worry, making my system a little too chaotic.

"Get up, Derek! We have to get inside before anyone sees you!" Stiles whispers.

"I'm trying, you idiot!" Derek groans.

The expression he wears is one of pain and I see how he cringes into himself, like just moving an inch makes his entire body shake with agony. Derek tries to get himself up on his knees, but only manages to push halfway up before his legs give out. He tumbles to the gravel of the parking lot with a long whine that I tear up at.

"Okay," I say, turning to face Stiles and Scott. "Help me get him inside."

When I crouch down by Derek's right shoulder, the burly man cracks his eyes open. A sneer slowly curls his lips back and a growl gurgles out of his throat. His reaction makes my chest ache.

"Get the hell away from me!" he grumbles.

"I don't think you're in a position to be making demands," says Stiles.

Another growl is Derek's response, but he seems to have realized that he needs my help now. The loathing look he continues to wear as Stiles and I help him limp into the vet's office makes me want to put distance between us as well.

Being around someone who wasn't afraid to admit their hatred for you can wear a person down after a while and Derek wasn't the least bit shy about shrinking away from me as much as possible. But Stiles couldn't shoulder his weight, so he'd have to reluctantly slouch back onto me.

By the time we make it into the back of the vet's office, my legs are shaking from carrying my used-to-be friend's weight. He's a lot bigger than I am and I most definitely wasn't as strong as him either. Stiles seemed to be struggling as well; Derek was threatening him every time the young boy attempted to drop him.

I'm straining through a mountain of frustration by the time a man with pretty chocolate skin and deep eyes hastily motions us in. Derek's ungratefulness makes me want to thump him on the head.

I don't get to see what happens—what Scott and Stiles do to Derek. He tells Scott to make me wait out in the lobby because of a reason that I don't hear. The boy is apologetic as he escorts me out into the sitting room. He promises to help Derek as much as he can, though, and then I'm left alone.

Groans and some tortured sounds emit from the back room while I sit uncomfortably in a plastic chair. I fidget anxiously with my hands, bouncing between drumming my fingers against my thighs and then deciding to twiddle my thumbs. But nothing takes my mind off the clattering sounds humming just a few doors down from where I rest.

I want to sprint down and push my way in, demanding to be by Derek's side while Scott does whatever he has to in order to make him better. I wonder what they would do should I attempt to do that. Derek wouldn't like it, I know. My used-to-be friend would probably roar and direct one of the teenagers to lead me back out here. A frown mares my lips at that realization.

"Ms. Kohl?"

My gaze flicks over to the long hallway and I spy Scott. The young boy is cheerily lumbering up from the darkened hallway, motioning to me.

"He's okay," Scott explains. "You wanna see him now?"

Nodding, I leave the thought of Derek not wanting to see me in the uncomfortable chair I'd been sitting in.

I trail behind Scott till we reach the door in which I knew Derek to be behind. The boy opens it for me and throws a warm smile over his shoulder. He motions me in.

Stiles is standing off to the side and he looks like he might be sick. A hand is covering his mouth while his big eyes are squinted. He gags a few times, which leads the pretty-skinned vet to pat his back softly. The practiced animal doctor hands him something I don't see. Stiles takes it appreciatively.

"Leave."

At the sound of his voice, my gaze darts over to Derek. He's shirtless and leaned against a table. No longer does he look pale and weak. Now, he seems strong, with a healthy flush coating his skin and the muscles of his biceps bulging. I swallow and force my eyes up to meet his. My body runs cold at seeing the fiery glare he's directing my way.

"Hey, she just risked her job to help, alright? Stop acting like a douchebag," quips Stiles.

"She's the reason I almost died! If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have even had to ask you for help!"

Derek slams his big hand down on the metal table he's still leaning against, snarling over at Stiles. The younger boy cowers back some while the vet turns his attention to me. He regards me with a cautious look that sweeps over my entire body.

"Who're you?" he asks gently.

"That's Ms. Kohl," says Scott, who steps around me.

"I'm Rosalie," I murmur.

"She's the only reason Stiles and I helped Derek. Otherwise, he would've died," the teenager explains.

A tense-filled silence follows Scott's words as the vet continues to stare at me. I grow more uncomfortable and go to take a few steps back, but the man suddenly smiles warmly at me before coming over. He pats my shoulder comfortingly once he gets close enough.

"I'm Dr. Deaton," he introduces. "It's nice to meet you."

I manage a faint smile and a nod. Dr. Deaton watches me for only a few seconds more before he turns his gaze on Derek. This time the vet stares with a glare that matches the burly mans.

"You're delusional. This woman doesn't even know what you are."

Silence drapes over the room as Derek breathes heavily and bounces between glaring at Dr. Deaton and I. Meanwhile, the dark skinned man has turned his attention onto my ex-friend, his previously calm expression now narrowed and steely. The older man takes a few steps forward, pausing at the corner of the metal table Derek was still leaning against.

When he speaks, his tone is low, and I can barely make out what's being said.

"Think about what you're going to do right now," says Deaton. "That woman has no idea about your world. But you already know that, don't you? Of course you do. Otherwise, you would've killed her a long time ago."

The vet nods and gives my used-to-be friend a knowing look.

"She's your scapegoat, isn't she? You don't have any real proof that she was involved in anything—that she even has any knowledge about you and your family, but you insist on blaming her because the Argent girl isn't here. Isn't that right?" says Deaton.

Dr. Deaton threads his hands together in front of him and glances over at me. I stare unapologetically at the man who I had never met until today, trying to figure out why he was defending me. But my brain is whirring with a million things and nothing is making sense.

"It seems the damage is done now," he murmurs.

Derek glances around the vet. His eyes are furrowed, but his look isn't as harsh as I had become accustomed to. He stares at me in a way that makes my entire body heat up. I feel the blush that pushes to the tops of my cheeks and have to look away before tears cloud my gaze.

I'm overwhelmed. The fear that I could lose my job because I chose to save a man who blatantly told me how much he despised me is whittling holes into my wall of calm. Anxiety pools rapidly in my system till I feel my hands trembling and my breathing becoming unsteady. Everything, from pictures of my dead best friend to the strange man who seem so sure that I'm not a monster, pushes against my brain. I feel like I might faint.

I stagger back some, but manage to catch myself on a wall. Scott is there, then, grabbing my elbow gently and offering to lead me out to my car. I grip my head and nod. Stiles decides that he'll come too.

I don't look back at Derek as we exit out of the sterile smelling room.


	5. five

The school day seems to last for ages. Usually I can manage to forget the time and focus well-enough, but today everything is droning on in a torturous way. When the final bell does ring, I nearly throw myself out with the students, but manage to catch myself before I make too much of a spectacle.

I gather the papers I still hadn't manage to get graded, a book almost completely void of lesson plans, and my bag before starting the trek out to my car. My eyes feel heavy as I walk and I contemplate forgoing marking up papers tonight so I could spend the whole time lying in bed. It sounds sad, but that's how I've felt lately: sad. The energy to do something I've never really minded isn't there right now.

Like before, when I'd been corned in Dr. Deaton's backroom, there are too many emotions swarming around in my system. It's hard for me to distinguish between what's real and rational, and what's supposed to be there. They all press down on my chest till all their fingers are pushing through the cage of my ribs and clutching my heart. I think I feel when they squeeze.

A loud honk and the sound of squealing tires startles me out of my thoughts. Wide eyed, I snap my head to the left and just manage to jump out of the way of a sleek black car. My brain doesn't even register that it's quite familiar at that time; I'm trying to push away the fingers now gripping my heart much too hard and attempting to remember how to breathe normally.

I grip a fistful of my shirt while stumbling back a few paces. Someone gets out of the car and slams the door, but I don't see who it is. My eyes are bleary as they stare down at the concrete now.

"Why the hell didn't you get out of the way?"

Fingertips trail all over me as the voice pricks my hearing. Then one places itself underneath my chin and tilts my head up. My eyes are met with the green gaze of Derek Hale. I almost frown.

"Are you alright?" He asks, expression a little frantic. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I need to sit down," I manage out.

I'm surprised when Derek helps me down onto the steps of the school and eases my things out of my hands. However, I don't ask him about his courteous behavior. I'm trying to taking deeper breaths so my head will stop spinning, but it's not working and it makes me sick to have my eyes open.

"Is this a panic attack?" comes his deep voice.

My fingers thread themselves into my hair, gripping the roots tightly as I lurch forward and press my forehead to my knees. Everything is spinning, even with my orbs shut, and my breaths are just becoming more labored. Images of all kinds are reeling through my mind like a never-ending slideshow. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

A gargled sob pushes out from somewhere inside me, followed by several short gasps that fail at helping me get some more oxygen into my system. I clutch harder at my hair while pressing my chest farther into my thighs. I don't know what else to do.

Then, suddenly, arms are encasing me. They pull me into a warm chest as a big hand comes up to untangle my fingers from my strands and cradle the back of my head. I am held tightly, so I can't do any more damage to myself, and am allowed to hide my face away.

I know it's Derek who is holding me so strongly, but I don't think about that now. I just clutch onto him for dear life because it seems like all that will keep me sane.

"It's alright," he murmurs lowly. "Just take a deep breath, okay?"

I grip him tighter and shove myself farther into his sturdy body. He holds me just as tightly as I am doing him and it feels nice. I think he might be forcing the pieces that had been at risk of falling off back together, but I'm not sure. I still feel like I'm on the brink of tumbling off a cliff.

Minutes pass, I think, before I am able to think properly again. That's when I fully grasp who is holding me and how I am really feeling. Underneath the chaos is something even scarier: a deep affection that makes my fingertips burn and my stomach bubble with a low ache.

When I pull my head back, Derek peers down at me with furrowed brows. His jade eyes study me for a few seconds and I think he's going to wipe away a piece of hair that had blown into my gaze, but he pulls away before I can feel his skin against mine anymore.

I remember his threat, the promise of my death should I seek him out again, and it chills me with a quick shudder down my spine. Quickly, I wipe at my eyes and try to fix my hair.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, unable to look at him.

Bending down, I gather my things again and fix the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I manage to make it all the way around Derek before a big hand is gently gripping my elbow.

"Rosalie," he calls softly. "I came here to talk to you."

Turning, I frown at him. "Why?"

"Because I… What you did for me… I think I at least owe you an explanation," he explains.

For a second I wonder if this is a trick—if he's using this new polite and caring attitude as a rouse that would lure me into a false security, keeping me relaxed just before he sunk his teeth into my jugular. Again, that tingle trickles its way down my spine. I frown once more.

Taking a step back, I shift the strap of my bag on my shoulder again and peer up at him. He stares down at me with an expression that I think is a mix of concern and hope. I furrow my brows as I try to look harder.

Derek sighs.

"It's just a conversation, Rosalie."

"Yea, but you said—"

"Things were different then," he interrupts.

I don't know what to do. The idea of talking to Derek finally makes adrenaline surge through my body, resulting in my brain whipping up close to a thousand questions that I've managed to gather in the span of time since everything has happened. But is it smart? Should I go with Derek? We'd be alone, probably, and if he did want to harm me, there would be no way that I could fight against the big brute of a man impatiently waiting before me.

Finally, I decide I'm too scared. This Derek is different from the one who I grew up with. He's angrier, meaner and calloused when it comes to feeling things. People like that are unpredictable. I want so badly to get answers—I think it will help me rest better and calm my nerves—but I don't think getting them from Derek is a good idea.

"I can't," I murmur, taking a few steps back. "I've got papers to grade."

"You want to know what happened, don't you? To Laura?"

My head snaps up from where my gaze had wandered down to the tips of my shoes. Derek has his eyebrows raised and his green eyes wide. But I know this look. He'd used it many times to win me over when I was on the edge about giving him something that he wanted (usually something reckless and dangerous and probably illegal). I wasn't immune to it now, but the trust that pushed me over that cliff isn't here anymore. It's in pieces between us, some under his foot and some bleeding in my hand as I scramble to hold onto them.

"I don't trust you," I whisper.

"I don't trust you either," he sighs.

"Then why are we even talking?"

It doesn't make sense. My brain can't work out how either one of us can even consider being in the same vicinity as the other. Trust was everything to both of us and without it, our relationship was nothing.

"I…" he scrambles for a second, flicking his gaze here and there. "You saved my life. I don't like being in debt to anyone."

My heart scales up a few notches in beating when I lock my eyes with his. I think I'm searching for a sign that I'll be safe with him in their depths, but I end up finding what I need in the way my body warms at being near him. While my thoughts are the farthest thing from telling me to go with my old friend, the slow ache growing in the pit of my stomach is practically pushing me into his arms.

So I nod and let him open the passenger door for me.


	6. six

**Authors Note: **_I'm so happy with all of the love all you pretty people have been giving this story! I honestly didn't think it would get so well of a reception, but it has and I'm so astounded by all the wonderful feedback, favorites, and follows! I appreciate all of it, I swear, and hope I'll be able to finish this story up for all of you hungrily reading the chapters. _

_So keep reviewing, clicking that favorite button, and following because I promise I'll keep posting chapters! xo_

* * *

The place we end up at makes the thought that he might use this opportunity to kill me flare back up. The realization is paralyzing as it slams into me and for a second I feel like my heart is going to beat through my chest. My hands fumble clumsily as I stretch them over to the passenger door handle, the idea that I could, maybe, make a hasty retreat bubbling lamely underneath all the terror flowing through my system. I've almost got the door open when a big hand shoots out from the left and jerks it closed again.

"Would you stop?" Derek says, his tone full of irritation.

"What're we doing here?"

I sound hysterical, like someone is squeezing my vocal cords, but I can't manage to fix my voice. I don't care too, either. I've fallen into Derek's trap. I'd abandoned rationality in favor of his pretty olive colored eyes and warm skin, and now he was probably going to drag me out of his nice car before tearing my throat open.

All these thoughts cause the fingers of a panic attack to slowly start to creep up. I can feel them sliding over my midsection, preparing to slip into my ribcage so they could grab my heart and crush it.

"We're talking, Rosalie. For Christ sake, I'm not going to hurt you!"

A strong hand grips my chin and forces my head to the left, where Derek is resting in the driver's seat. His gaze is steady as he peers over at me and he even holds up his free hand in mock surrender. I think he's trying to ease me, but I don't understand why he chose a decrepit building to talk in. Somewhere public would've been just fine—but, then again, it wouldn't have.

I just remember Sheriff Stilinski and his band of deputies that are currently combing Beacon Hills in search of Derek, but I'm not sure if that's why he's drug me so far into the empty part of town.

"Rosalie," Derek says, interrupting my train of thought. He grips my chin a little harder and leans in close, so I can see the fine lines indented into his lips. "I swear, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk, okay?"

He arches his eyebrows, prompting me to cutout this wave of panic and just trust him. But he already knows that he no longer has my trust.

If I was to get out of this car, then it was going to take more than his puppy dog eyes.

"I…" I stammer for a bit because I can't think of what to say. Pulling away from Derek, I tuck pieces of hair behind my ears and stare out the windshield. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

He sighs, but answers me. "What you did for me… Not many people would've after the way I treated you."

"Did you expect me to just leave you in the hallway?" I ask.

"Yes."

My head snaps over to look at him then because I can't believe he would anticipate me regarding him in such a way. I would never claim to be the nicest or bravest person, but I would rather go through hell than see someone I cared about hurt.

And Derek was hurting. I could see it in the way he kept his body tense and feel it with everyone I'd seen him interact with. He was cold because he was scared, probably dealing with trying to figure out how to truly be alone and what to do about Laura's death. He'd always been so easy going when were younger and I knew that he wasn't equipped to deal with everything balancing on his broad shoulders. Derek was strong, but he wasn't a monster; he felt things just like everyone else.

I couldn't help him, though. For some reason he didn't trust me and he'd made me so frightened of him that I questioned every single move he made. I want to breach that gap we'd positioned between ourselves, but I don't know how. I doubt he does, either.

The sound of a car door shutting jerks me out of my thoughts and alerts me to the fact that Derek had gotten out. I watch him for a second to see where he's doing, what his plan is, and only get out when he pauses in front of the sleek Camaro.

"I'd never do that," I say, coming to stand beside him. "I'd never leave you like that, no matter what you'd done to me. I care too much about you."

The last part spills out before I can hide the true meaning with other words. Immediately, my cheeks flame and I scowl a little down at the dirt resting underneath my shoes.

"You're a better person than I am, Rosalie. I would've left you to die," he says.

"Why?"

The honesty in his words has pushed the fingers of panic further into my chest and now they're fighting with lashes of anger that had formed at hearing Derek's words.

But he doesn't answer me, he just motions for me to follow him. When I don't, he quickly snatches up my hand and starts to lead me into the building.

I try to pretend like his hand isn't that warm and that I don't really like the way it could fit two times over my smaller one. I try to ignore the way he scales the pad of his thumb over my knuckles and not pay attention to how easily he can slide his fingers through mine. I try to blame all the heat rolling over all my previous emotions on the fact that I can't think rationally anymore—that I've officially lost my mind.

Derek leads me into a large piece of a vacant building, which I realize isn't just a building, but an apartment complex. The space he pauses in looks to be an empty loft.

"I know I said I'd… That I'd hurt you, Rosalie, but I promise I'd never. You know that, don't you?" he murmurs.

He has let go of my hand and walked a few paces in front of where I've stopped. His back is to me, his shoulder blades pushing through the green top he's wearing. I swallow and try to focus more on his words.

"What?" I ask.

He sighs. "I'm going to show you something, alright? And you don't have to be afraid. Just… Let me explain before you run out. Please."

"Derek, what're you—"

But I can't finish my sentence because my words jumble up in my throat and lodge there, threatening to choke me as my eyes widen at the sight of my friend's face, which has now transformed into that of some kind of monster. A scream manages to push up through all the jumbled mess, though, and it rings out so loudly that I wonder how my throat isn't bleeding.

When I go to sprint for the door, an arm ending with a set of five claws wraps around my waist and jerks me into a hard chest.

"P-please," I stutter. "Derek, let m-me go."

"I said I wasn't going to hurt you, Rosie. Trust me," he whispers.

His cool breath pushes over the skin of my neck, causing me to squirm more and tears to start to trickle down my cheeks.

Again, the realization that he might be seconds away from killing me makes me wish I'd stuck with my first instinct and declined coming along with him. But it's too late for that because Derek, with this sharp nails and glistening teeth, has got me trapped in this room with no way out. My heart stammers and I think I might pass out.

"I can't! Please! Let me go!" I scream.

I manage to whirl out of his clutches, but suspect it's only because he let me go. The door is a couple of feet from where we were standing and I start to sprint towards it again, hoping he hadn't locked it because it was definitely my only way out.

"Rosalie!" he yells.

"Get away from me!"

"I've never hurt you before, have I? All those times you slept in my house, you were fine, weren't you? No one laid a hand on you, did they? You were fine."

That stops me. Confusion rakes through my entire system. _What_?

I want to turn and face him, but I'm too afraid to. I'm scared to see the face of something that is supposed to be nothing but an urban legend.

"Your family were one of those too?" I ask in disbelief.

"They were. Even Laura."

"I don't believe you."

Derek sighs; it seems to vibrate throughout the entire space and almost knocks me down—or I think it does, but come to think that it was probably the fact that suddenly everything was turned upside down now.

"Turn around, Rosie."

"I can't," I gasp out.

And I really can't. The idea that I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that my world really wasn't what I thought it was had become disorientating. I could handle Laura leaving after losing her entire family and maybe even deal with her death, but her being a supernatural being? No, that was too much for someone to deal with in the span of a few weeks.

"It's alright," he murmurs.

Then his big hands—they're back to hands!—grip my shoulders and help me get my body turned around and facing his. He sticks a finger underneath my chin before tilting it up. Relief courses through me at seeing that his handsome face had returned and that he was human again. The image of the contortions it had taken on, though, don't leave my mind.

"What are you?" I ask desperately.

A few beats later, with his hands in fists at his sides and his eyes flickering a vibrant blue, he answers, "I''m a werewolf."


	7. seven

**Authors Note:** _Welp. Posted this update on Mibba, only to have the same user comment multiple, multiple times basically butchering my story completely. Now, I know that you're not supposed to let one person destroy your drive to write and update, but this was the first time I've ever received a comment like that before. I've been writing for around seven years now and not once have I ever had someone take my story apart like that. It was disheartening, to be honest. So... Maybe this will be the last update for a long while? I dunno. We'll see._

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I'm sitting in a corner of the loft, where the sunshine is flickering through a dust covered window and bathing the cold floor in yellow. My knees are drawn up to my chest and I have my arms wrapped around them while my forehead presses into my kneecaps. I'm squeezing my thighs tightly in hopes that I can pull myself together that way—that cradling my body would help me hold cracking pieces of my sanity together. But it's not working. I can feel the slivers beginning to crumble bit by bit and as they fall, their remnants trickle into wounds that I thought had healed a long time ago. The particles that sprinkle down to the ground make the gashes sting and me outwardly cringe. I do my best to muffle sobs but know that a few ring out in the empty apartment.

Across the room from me is Derek, where's he's been sitting ever since I cowered into this corner. Every once in a while I'll hear the scuff of his shoes or a long sigh leave his lips, but I don't ever get the courage to look up at him. I just squeeze myself tighter and try to shut out the image of the monster-like face he'd flashed me briefly.

The secret he'd just revealed is still running through my mind and just when I think that I've come to terms with it, a new flare of frightened panic rises up till I think I might faint.

For the past hour or two I've been trying to work out what I should do now. There are still holes in the events that have ran through my life suddenly in the past few weeks, even with Derek's admittance of being a supernatural creature. Certain things, like Laura's death and his blaming of me for that, don't make sense at all, no matter how long I calculate everything. But others, such as the good vet Dr. Deaton aiding Derek when he was sick, click together effortlessly.

In between all of that, I'm also still grappling with the decision of whether or not to trust Derek. I know that revealing a secret his entire family had worked to keep from me must've been hard. The love and respect he had for each of them was something I know that no one will ever really be able to grasp, it is that great. He had chosen to tell me something that could put their memory into jeopardy, though. For all he knew, I could leave this shabby complex right now and run to sheriff Stilinski with this news. I would never, though—I couldn't do something like that to Laura or Mrs. Hale. They were my family too.

And then a realization dawns on me so hard that it makes my heart thud even more erratically in the cage of my chest. Derek knew he could trust me with this secret, otherwise he wouldn't have even risked telling me, and if he trusts me with something as monumental as his family of secretive werewolves, then he must believe in me more than he was willing to admit to either of us.

_Does this change things?_ For a second I think no, because his threat from a few weeks ago still pulses in the front of my brain and this Derek was much too different from the one I'd ever been around before. Then, however, I counter with the thought that he'd had several opportunities to murder me. We'd been sitting here for hours now and he hadn't even moved so much as an inch from where he'd dropped earlier.

My heart starts to pick up its pace even more as I think about the choices I have to pick from now. I know that I must choose one—that I can't just abandon him and make a run for it. He needed someone, his tense shoulders and sad, sad jade green eyes a perfect display of that very fact, and I was all that was left. I want to be safe, though. I don't want to fling myself into a situation that might snag the last thread of my life into and end up tumbling off the edge of a cliff that I felt like I'd been risking jumping off of ever since news of Laura's death had reached me.

I decide that starting with my questions is best. I can ask them from here and it's a slow start that will, hopefully, help me warm to the idea of finally diving head first in the black, bottomless pool that was Derek and I's friendship.

My back aches a little when I finally sit up and some of my hair is sticking to my cheeks, thanks to the tacky wetness of my drying tears. I sniffle while trying to fix myself, only glancing up once I'm sure that I won't wobble over at the first sight of Derek in hours.

"I…" I begin, faltering when his jade orbs lock on me. A heat pools in the pit of my stomach again while my fingers tremble. The urge to scoot closer to him, to hide myself in his burly body and take refuge in his warm skin, hits me so hard that I gasp. When Derek's expression turns to a glare that he directs to the floor, I clear my throat and stare down at my hands. "I don't understand why you'd blame for… For _her_ death."

Minutes tick by as I wait for an answer. After a while I give up on thinking that he's going to even reply to me and start to dig around through the other questions I have. But just as I open my mouth to ask the next one, he starts to talk.

"There are other things you don't know about," he says, tone low, his words almost growling.

"Like what?" I ask.

Peering at him curiously now, I'm unable to help myself.

"Dangerous things," he mutters.

"Dangerous people?" He nods. "Did one of them kill Laura?" Another nod. "Was it because she was a… Because she was like you?" This time, a growl ripples out, and I don't need anything else. I know.

I can't help the tears that cloud my vision. My friend had been murdered because she was something from an urban legend and whether I could accept what Derek had told me about himself and his family or not, I would never think that they needed to be burnt alive. I had loved them all before and I still did now, supernatural alter egos be damned.

"Why would they do that?" I ask.

I try to sound strong, but my tone is fragile and I know Derek realizes I've been crying, if he hadn't already.

He glances up to look at me and his expression softens.

"Because they hate our kind. They think we're dangerous—that we're murderers," he murmurs.

"Are you?"

The question slips out before I can think and my eyes widen a little as does Derek's. But he manages to fix his expression quicker than I'm able to do mine, looking back down to the floor as I draw in a steadying breath.

"No, we're not," mutters Derek.

"But what do those people have to do with me?"

"I thought you were one of them."

My eyebrows furrow at this. I don't understand, especially seeing as I'd spent the majority of my life in the dark about my best friend and her family's private double life.

"Why would you think that? How could you… I loved Laura. She was my best friend. I would never… I can't even imagine—"

Derek cuts off my rambling softly. "I know," he whispers. "I didn't then, but I do now."

"Is that why you hated me so much when you came back?"

Sniffling, I tuck tendrils of my hair behind my ear and settle against the wall, trying to make myself more comfortable. I want to be beside him, not halfway across the room, but I'm too shy and uncertain to cross the floor to where he's still sitting.

"Yea. And my family. I thought you did them, too."

"What?" I exclaim.

"I know it wasn't you now," he explains.

"Why would you ever think that I would hurt them? That I could murder your family?"

"I knew it was her. Then, in the back of my mind, I knew Kate had started the fire," he states matter-of-factly, though his tone grows softer towards the end of his sentence and he settles his gaze back on the floor. He stares at something only his pretty eyes can see. "But then, I wanted it to be you too. You were… I had feelings that I wasn't supposed to, not when I had Kate. And you were always so close, Rosalie." At this, he glances back up at me, his tone transformed into a low groan. I'm frozen, left to do nothing but stare at him and fight the fire rumbling in the pit of my stomach. "I thought you were trying to tempt me on purpose, trying to get me to touch you and kiss you because you were going to be the distraction while Kate set me on fire too.

But you came to the hospital that night and I swear I thought you were going to pass out. Then Laura and I left, and she said that there was no way that you could ever do that—she said that you were in love with me and it had nothing to do with Kate. It took me until a few days ago to believe her."

My face is heating up as embarrassment floods through my system. Derek's words have destroyed everything inside of me and I can't do anything but stare over at him. My body is twitching silently, though, as if begging me to give up and finally run over to him. The desire gets so strong that I have to dig my nails into my thigh in order to stop myself.

Kate's face, though, pops into my mind and my eyes widen at the realization that she, a person who'd been so close to me, had murdered nearly all of the Hale's. I don't want to believe that she would do something like that. True, I'd always thought it was cold of her to not come to the hospital that night, but that had been as far as my judgment had gone. I'd never suspected that she was capable of doing something so horrific.

"Why didn't you or Laura ever tell me any of this before?" I whisper, unable to make my tone any louder.

Derek swallows and I think I see his eyes float down to my lips before snapping over to the window I'm sitting to the left of.

"Leaving was our best option then. We'd lost our entire pack, we didn't know who'd attacked us, and we had no idea if they were going to come at us again. I wanted to kill you before we left, but Laura threatened to break my leg if I ever touched you." He pauses here and lets a brief smile splay across his lips. I can't help it and one also stretches onto my face. "So we decided to leave you with nothing and hoped you'd be left alone."

I feel like I've been emptied of everything suddenly. Derek speaking of how he'd wanted to kiss me and touch me has seemingly done something that I've been attempting to do for the last few weeks: rid me of my panic, terror, and sadness. But they're not totally gone. I can still feel it all pulsing threateningly just underneath the surface. However, for right now, I'm free. I can breathe easily again and my heart beats as it should.

I'm lost, though. I don't know where to go after finally having the dots connected and all the blank spaces filled in. I've gotten my answers, know all about the darkness that has always been threatening to push into my life, and don't know which path to take next.

"What now?" I whisper.

I don't realize it till the words are already out of my mouth, but I've chosen to trust him again, otherwise where I go from here wouldn't have been left up to him. It's not disorientating or scary. I don't start to panic nor do I feel like I need to run away anymore. I just feel like I want Derek to take me by the hand and lead me onto the next level because I can't find the way to do that myself.

Finally, he looks down from where the window pane had been holding his gaze and allows his orbs to drop onto my face. I stare back when he locks eyes with me, trying to be uncaring in the fact that I know my cheeks are red and that our staring is doing nothing but fanning the flames roaring inside my stomach.

He takes a deep breath that seems to travel up from his chest and exhale out of his mouth before skimming his gaze down to where his big hands are resting lifelessly in his lap. For a few minutes he fumbles with his thick fingers and I just watch him. He let me have my time, so I would do the same with him.

"What do you want to do now, Rosie?" he asks, looking up again.

I try not to smile at hearing my old nickname being used again, having to fold my lips in on themselves in order to prevent myself from doing so. But my eyes swell up and then I know that I've been betrayed. Derek's face brightens a little after that.

"I don't know what there is to do now, to be honest. I'm… I'm lost," I confess.

"We could start again," he tentatively says. "Go back to before I threatened to… To when I said I'd hurt you. If you can, we can forget that and just go from there."

I hadn't thought that that Derek would suggest we move on together. I'd wanted him to lead me to the start of a path, but I'd never thought he'd willingly walk along with me.

Before I manage an answer, Derek is standing and coming towards me. He extends a hand when he gets a couple of feet away and rakes his orbs over me as I stare up at him. When I place my hand into his big palm, he clasps his fingers over it, holding tightly while helping me to my feet.

I try to fix my clothes while I feel his breath pushing over the top of my head. He's peering down at me, with his other hand hovering cautiously by my left hip. Swallowing after realizing what he wanted, I step into him and melt into his body as his arms come around me.

"I missed you, Rosie," he whispers.

"I missed you too, Derek," I reply.


End file.
